


Ah Teneriffe!

by middlemarch



Category: Foyle's War
Genre: F/M, Gen, Holidays, Male-Female Friendship, Postcards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8347168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch
Summary: From the Algarve, as he'd intended.





	

The postcard was like a Neapolitan ice cream—the sky cobalt, the sea aquamarine, the sand the palest gold. She’d written very little, knowing he wouldn’t like there to be more, just “Sun every day, pure Heaven, how clever of you!” and had scrawled her name so that only the S was legible. Anyone could be forgiven for thinking it was from Serena or Susannah. The letter was slightly longer, on the blue tissue of airmail stationery, the ink of her Biro indigo, but she’d written how she sunned herself “like a lizard on the bare rock—and I blink just as often” and how refreshing the sea was in the late afternoon, how she’d given up on going to Lisbon because it was so peaceful at the villa “even if there’s a shocking lack of culture and I know the museums in Lisbon must be chock-full.” Adam had taken a day to stop composing speeches and policy statements, helped by Sam hiding his folio. Christopher had been right, the holiday was giving her back to herself, and in true Sam fashion, she’d managed to say that as well and add “I don’t know how I’ve been so lucky to be blessed twice, in marriage and friendship, but I suppose I’ll have to thank God, though not on these creaky knees.” He’d tacked the postcard above his desk; even though he sat there less often to write, he could see the colors from across the room, an odd memory of her particular vision now in his head, his house.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't resist Sam writing to Foyle from the holiday he suggested but I knew he wouldn't want much on a postcard, not private enough.
> 
> The title is from Emily Dickinson.


End file.
